Ribbons
by Natureboy3
Summary: Mollie has stayed at Animal farm, and Boxer develops a close friendship with her. What will he do when Napoleon decides that the mare's usefullness is up? MolliexBoxer. One-shot.


**A.N.: Hello everyone! This is my first Fanfic for Animal Farm. I feel good about this! Please review, but no flames. **

Mollie, the white mare, awoke to a cool morning. The dull fall sunshine was peeking through the clouds outside the barn, and the air had a crisp feeling to it. Standing up and stretching her legs, she shook her head to drive away the drowsiness.

It then occurred to Mollie that the barn was deserted. There were no pigeons cooing in the rafters, no murmured words as sleeping creatures dreamed.

The raised platform was missing the Berkshire boar Napoleon who called the residents of Animal Farm together on Sundays to inform them of their orders for the week.

Walking across the dirt floor and daintily pushing the door open with her hoof, she encountered the pig Squealer, Napoleon's second in command.

"Shame on you comrade! Shame! You have overslept greatly! You have even missed the meeting headed by out great leader Napoleon! I know every beast has Sunday as a day off, but we are obligated to attend the raising of the flag, and be informed of our duties for the week. Our leader will be most displeased when he hears about this!"

Unease set through Mollie. True, she had been late to work before, but she had never missed the meetings as well as the raising of the flag. Whenever she was late to work, Napoleon would reproach her sharply, saying that the effort of every creature was required to keep the days of Jones from becoming a reality once again.

Mollie would always nod her head and promise it would never happen again; but in truth it did not affect her as much as it did any of the other animals. Her days under the rule of Jones had actually been pretty good. She only had to work once a week, on Sundays when Mrs. Jones took the two children on a picnic after church.

Mr. Jones always stayed behind to look after Manor Farm. The light, two-wheeled carriage she had pulled weighed little, and the three humans didn't weigh much either. When they arrived at a nearby pond, Mrs. Jones would unharness Mollie, allowing her to graze while she read from a leather book under a nearby tree.

The little boy, Roger, had brown hair like his father and would never sit still. He would be off like a shot, exploring the nearby stumps and under rocks for bugs and frogs. Mrs. Jones would have him open his pockets before they left to make sure he wasn't bringing home any new pets. The little girl, who's name was Lucy, had red hair like her mother and freckles dotting her face.

She loved to take ribbons from the pocket of her green dress and tie them in Mollie's mane while feeding the mare lumps of sugar. She didn't like when they had to leave, as her mother wanted her to be brought up like a 'proper young lady' and refused to let her play in the barn.

Mollie never told anyone her true thoughts, however, and always murmured a quiet word of agreement whenever the subject of Jones's cruelty was brought up. She came out of her thoughts and pleaded with Squealer.

"Don't tell Napoleon, please! I'll work hard this week. I promise!" Mollie's voice was shrill.

Squealer looked her over for a minute before giving a grunt of consent, "fine, comrade, but if you shirk your duties once more I shall tell out leader."

Mollie watched as he continued on and disappeared around the corner of the farmhouse. She sighed in relief and checked the position of the sun; it was high in the sky, the day half over and Mollie had just woken up.

As she trotted past the cowshed, another voice got her attention. It was Clover, a mare much older and having more experience at life then Mollie.

"Mollie, do you know what Minimus did with those buckets of white paint? Napoleon wants to paint the commandments of Animalism on the side of the farmhouse."

The younger mare shook her head, for she never really payed attention to where things were kept, unless it involved ribbons or lumps of sugar which were now forbidden. A look of concern crossed Clover's face and she stepped a little closer. Something was obviously troubling Mollie.

"Are you okay, Mollie?"

"I'm fine," she murmured.

Clover decided not to press the issue, "alright, but if something is wrong, you can always talk to me."

Mollie nodded and trotted away at a smart pace. Her mind was whirling, it was imperative she didn't skip work anymore, or Napoleon would punish her after being informed by Squealer.

As she continued on, the other inhabitants of Animal Farm were enjoying their afternoon off. There was one beast in particular she did not see: Boxer. She stopped by a group of sheep.

"Excuse me, have any of you seen Boxer?" she asked.

"Four legs good, two legs bad! Four legs good, two legs bad!" They continued bleating the mantra over and over again.

Mollie then tried Moses, the tame raven, who was perching on a nearby fencepost. The black bird ignored her question and pointed up into the sky with one wing, "look, comrade, behind that cloud! There lies Sugarcandy mountain, where no animal ever goes hungry! We shall be in for a treat when we leave this earth! Help me spread the word and make others believe!"

Mollie sighed and continued on to where the windmill was being constructed. The circular structure was coming along nicely, so said Napoleon. The walls reached up to Mollie's shoulders and were about four feet thick. Beyond the windmill the ground sloped off into the rock quarry where stone was being supplied for the windmill.

Peering over the edge, she saw the male horse, who had brown hair except for a single white stripe down his nose. Boxer kept his head low, dragging a heavy lump of stone, and muttering under his breath to keep pace with his steps.

"I will work harder...Napoleon is always right..."

He looked up at the mare when he reached the top of the slope, the rock pulled close to the cliff edge, which was a few steps away beyond the edge of the slope.

"Ah, welcome comrade! I see you have come to watch my work. I feel very good about the windmill; once it has been finished, we shall have a three day workweek!" Boxer then lowered his head, letting the loop of rope that was around his neck slip to the ground. "But if that is to be achieved, I must work harder."

As he pressed his sturdy frame against the boulder, it tipped over the edge of the cliff and hurtled downward, carried by gravity. There was a tremendous crash as it hit the ground and shattered into several smaller, more useable pieces. With a nod of satisfaction, Boxer moved to descend back into the quarry.

"No!"

The stallion turned back to Mollie with a confused look. The word had been out before she could think, and she continued lamely.

"Uh...you shouldn't work so hard, Boxer. It's not good for you. Why don't you take a break?"

The horse in question looked as if he was going to object, but seemed to decide against it and sat down beside Mollie. Mollie, not really knowing what else to say, absent-mindedly traced her name on a patch of bare earth with her hoof.

M-O-L-L-I-E

Boxer stared at the letters with interest, "is that your name?"

Mollie nodded, "can you write your name?"

Boxer shook his head, "only a few letters." He wrote the four letters he knew with his hoof.

A-B-C-D

Mollie frowned, "you really should know how to write your name." At first, the mare had not been interested in learning anything else then the letters of her own name.

But slowly she had taken an interest to it, and was now very literate. Mollie could write words and read just as well as the pigs. She wiped the patch of earth clean and wrote in clear, block letters: B-O-X-E-R. She turned to the stallion in question, "now you try it."

Boxer concentrated and wrote beneath Mollie's letters: B-O-X-E-R.

Mollie let out a whinny of delight, "very good! You write well, Boxer. Now let me show you some more letters..."

* * *

Boxer raised his head, just realizing that the sun was going down. "Comrade, it's getting dark, we should head back to the barn. I do feel bad, though, that I was not able to move as much stone today as I had hoped. To make up for it, I shall work harder. Tomorrow I shall wake up one hour earlier," he got to his feet and began to walk away.

"Boxer, can I ask you something?"

The brown horse turned and waited patiently for Mollie to ask her question.

"Why do you work so hard?"

"Because Napoleon says that the windmill will mean less work in the future, even if we must work harder now. Napoleon is always right, so I shall work harder."

As the moon began to rise, Boxer noticed something that he hadn't noticed before in the fading light.

"Comrade, what is that in your mane?'

It was a ribbon, blue like a robin's egg. A wave of memories and pain swept over Mollie. She had taken off her other ribbons after the expulsion of Jones, but this one remained, hidden in her mane.

She didn't care what the others said about ribbons being badges of slavery. This ribbon was special, it had been a favorite of her mother, Star, before that fateful day.

* * *

_The day was cool and clear. Mollie, a little white foal then, watched her mother being led out of the barn by some strange men. She quickly trotted over to her parent, concern filling her small body. _

"_Mommy, where are you going?"_

_Star looked down at her daughter. She was a light, silvery color that shone in the sun even in her old age. She was too frail to pull Mr. Jones's carriage, and Mr. Jones had called these men. Her deep, brown eyes filled with love as she continued to watch offspring._

"_Mollie, mommy has to go away for awhile. You promise me you'll be a good girl, okay? Always treat others with respect and mind yourself." _

_Star turned her head and gently pulled loose a ribbon that was tied up in her mane. It was her favorite one. She lowered the ribbon, gently placing it around her daughters neck. _

_A van pulled up then, and the back doors were swung open. Star was lead into the back of the van, but her foal followed her, planting herself firmly beside her mother._

"_Mommy, I want to go with you."_

_Star shook her head, "no, you must stay here Mollie. Remember, I love you."_

_One of the men reached in and dragged Mollie out roughly by her mane, tossing her on the ground. They quickly shut the doors and got into the van, starting the horses that were pulling it with a jerk of the reins. Mollie coughed weakly as a cloud of dust flew into her face._

"_Momma! Momma! Come back!"_

_She took off as fast as her little legs could carry her, calling for Star until her voice was strained. The van was too fast, and it rolled past the five-bar gate and disappeared down the road. Mollie sat there, sobbing and calling for her mother who was gone, although to where she did not know. _

_Opening her eyes, she saw the blue ribbon her mother had given her lying in the dust. Picking it up in her teeth, gently as if it were newborn chick, she set the ribbon in her mane. It was the only thing she had to remember her mother, and she wasn't going to lose it._

* * *

Mollie came back to the present, out of her memories. She recalled when the other animals had told her off when they first explored the farmhouse, assuming that the ribbon Mollie was admiring on her shoulder in the mirror had belonged to Mrs. Jones. It had actually been her mother's ribbon, she just wanted to take it out for a moment, to picture Star beside her.

Mollie turned her gaze back to Boxer, if Napoleon found out about her ribbon he would burn it, not to mention punish her in some unspeakable way.

"Boxer...you can't tell anyone. Please..." Mollie's voice trailed off, fear closing up her throat. "Napoleon isn't always right."

Boxer watched her for a moment, digesting the fact that someone, for the first time, had contradicted one of his personal mottos. Unable to find the words to speak, he simply nodded. Turning, he was swallowed by the inky blackness of the night.

* * *

A cockerel, as arranged the previous night, woke Boxer an hour before the rest of Animal Farm were scheduled to awaken. Taking a bite of oats from the manger in his stall, he set out for the windmill at a brisk pace. The sun had not quite risen yet, leaving a light blanket of darkness across the landscape. He halted momentarily along the way, writing some words in the dirt.

C-L-O-V-E-R...B-E-N-J-A-M-I-N...M-O-L-L-I-E

Pleased with himself that he could remember the words Mollie had taught him the previous night; Boxer continued on until he reached the quarry. Walking down the slope that lead into the gulch, he was greatly surprised to see Mollie coming from the opposite direction.

She had a length of rope looped around her and was hauling a stone. It was barely half the size of the ones Boxer normally moved, but it easy to see the mare was trying her hardest. Sweat glistened on her sides and her teeth were gritted with the effort of moving the piece of rock.

Boxer moved to her side quickly, "ah, comrade, surely your will is much larger then mine for you to be up so early!" A look of concern came to his eyes and he added, "let me help you."

Picking up a second piece of rope, he looped it around his neck and helped Mollie pull the stone. It weighed next to nothing compared to what he usually pulled, and soon the stone rested at the top of the ridge.

Mollie let out a sigh of relief as she sat down, " Thank you so much for the help, Boxer." The stallion nodded, but a voice reached them before he could say anything.

"Mollie, what are you doing? Distracting Boxer from his work?" Squealer came up to the pair of horses and lowered his voice, "have you forgotten, Mollie, that I could easily tell Napoleon about yesterday at anytime?"

Mollie scrambled to her feet, apologizing profusely. Squealer seemed satisfied for the moment and went to issue orders to the other who were arriving at the work site. Boxer watched him go, a dark look in his eyes. He edged a little closer to Mollie, "stick with me, comrade, we'll work together."

* * *

The rest of the day was unusually warm, making it tedious for all the animals. For Mollie, it was worse tenfold. Squealer assigned her to boulders she really couldn't move. Boxer tried to help her when he could, but Squealer continuously assigned him to the far side of the quarry, away from Mollie.

Finally, mercifully, the sun began to sink below the horizon, indicating the work day was finished and the animals were dismissed. Squealer caught up with Mollie, who looked close to collapse.

"Good work, comrade. Keep this up and you won't let me down. See how that works?" Mollie nodded and dragged herself off toward the barn.

Boxer watched her go and narrowed his eyes, "Squealer, why do you threaten Mollie so? What has she done to you?"

The pig frowned at this, stepping a little closer to his monochromatic counterpart. "You tread on dangerous ground, Boxer. All you need to do is work harder. Remember, Napoleon is always right."

With that, he turned and walked off toward the farmhouse, which the pigs had taken over as a command center. Boxer watched him go, recalling what Mollie had told him. "Napoleon is not always right."

As he was about to go, something on the ground caught his eye. It was a ribbon, the same one Mollie kept hidden in her mane. Boxer was unsure of why she continued to wear it, but he knew it must be important to her.

Taking it carefully between his teeth, he made his way back to the barn. The mare was, as expected, sound asleep. The stallion carefully laid the bit of cloth beside Mollie's head on the hay, before retiring to his own stall for the night.

* * *

Boxer was awakened the following morning as Squealer trotted by, his tail swishing back and forth. "Attention everyone! Great comrade Napoleon has called a meeting down at the flagpole! Report at once!"

The stallion followed the flow of animals as the made their way down to the flagpole. What could be the purpose of this meeting? Boxer had no idea, but it didn't last long. The green banner with the hoof and horn flapped savagely in the wind, accompanied by dark storm clouds.

Napoleon sat on Mr. Jones's old tractor at the base of the flagpole, where it sat rusting in the grass. Forming a ring around the base of the tractor were the dogs the boar had raised to be his personal bodyguards.

Anyone who came close was shown dozens of razor sharp teeth. A committee of pigs sat a safe distance behind the tractor. A few paces in front of the dogs stood Mollie, her head lowered, looking wilted under the merciless gaze of Napoleon. The boar raised something in his trotter; Boxer recognized it instantly, Mollie's ribbon.

"Friends! Comrades! I have before me a traitor and a spy! This," he shook the ribbon, "was found in Mollie's stall! Comrade Squealer, could you please explain to the residents of Animal Farm what you saw last night?"

Squealer stepped forward and began to speak in his high-pitched voice. "As I was working late on the windmill by myself last night, I saw Mollie sneaking by in the darkness. She looked suspicious, so I followed her. And do you know who she met at the fence bordering Animal Farm? Snowball and Jones!"

This caused quiet an uproar amongst the residents of aforementioned farm. Mollie neither confirmed no denied the accusation, she just kept her head lowered to the noise around her.

Squealer continued, "Mollie was a traitor all along! She working to bring Jones back! In three days time, she was to run the marker that great comrade Napoleon is holding up the flagpole as a signal for Jones and his men to attack!"

Napoleon nodded with a satisfied look, "well, Mollie, do you have anything to say in your defense?"

The mare raised her head then and opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She simply lowered her head and said nothing. The Berkshire boar, from his raised point on the tractor, simply gave a reluctant nod, as if he didn't want to continue.

"Mollie, I find you guilty of heresy and plotting against Animal Farm and our cause. You are to be sentenced to death..."

The world swam before him and Boxer felt like he would lose consciousness.

"...on second thought, you're in good condition. Why waste the free labor? You will work on the windmill, unassisted, in hauling stones. I will figure out what else to do with you later. Everyone else has the day off. This meeting is adjourned."

_CRASH! BOOM!_

A bolt of lightning split across the sky and rain began to fall. The dogs, at a squeal from Napoleon, herded Mollie off toward the windmill, snapping at her heels as they went.

Raindrops ran down Boxer's face as he made his way back to the barn, but he paid no heed to them. This was all his fault. Mollie was going to suffer under the Napoleon's cruelty.

_Napoleon is always right._

Boxer shook his head, still attempting to gather his thoughts. Moving the barn door aside with a light rap of his hoof, he was about to go to his stall when some voices came through the dimness of the barn.

"I don't get it, Benjamin. Why would Napoleon suddenly label Mollie a traitor? And I don't remember Squealer ever showing an interest in working on the windmill," Clover said.

Benjamin agreed with her, albeit a little reluctantly. "You're right. I don't think Mollie would go against us, either. Yes, she is a bit full of herself, but good at heart."

"It's all my fault."

Clover and Benjamin turned to him, and Boxer explained everything. He told them about the spelling lesson, Mollie's ribbon, Squealer's threats, and everything else that had happened in the past few days.

Clover gave an understanding nod, "so that's what was troubling Mollie! We need to think of a way to help her before..."

A pigeon flapped through a gap in the wooden wall just then and chirped out a quick message. "Come quickly! Mollie's fallen on her side and isn't getting up! Hurry!"

Boxer sent the door open with a mighty shove and galloped out into the rain. Clover and Benjamin were right behind him. Upon reaching the windmill, Boxer looked around frantically. The dogs were missing, presumably taken shelter somewhere.

"Mollie! Mollie, where are you?"

"Over here..."

The white mare lay on her side, her right foreleg angled painfully away from the rest of her body. It was obvious she had slipped on the wet ground, and even if her leg wasn't broken, it still hurt her greatly.

Clover was quick to take charge, "Benjamin, go get her stall ready for her. Boxer, help me get her up."

Supported by her two friends, Mollie was able to limp back to the barn. She sank down gratefully on the bed of straw that Benjamin had prepared for her.

As she fell asleep, Clover determined that her leg wasn't broken, just sprained. After applying a poultice of leaves and herbs, they backed off to allow her some rest.

Boxer looked desperately at his friends, "what do we do? We can't let Napoleon and Squealer know what happened to her. We need to get her out of here! We need to..."

Clover gently interrupted him by pressing her nose against his shoulder. "I understand, Boxer, but she needs to rest before we can think of moving her. Let her sleep for now."

* * *

Napoleon slurped whiskey out of the china bowl that had come from Mrs. Jones cupboard. This bottle of alcohol was particularly fine, and her was enjoying himself.

As the last of the liquid disappeared down the dictator's throat, he reached his trotter toward that bottle that sat on the table beside him. It was empty. Grunting in annoyance, he leapt down from chair and stepped around all different matter of rubbish on the floor.

Opening the cabinet in the scullery that held the whiskey bottles, he grabbed the neck of the nearest bottle in hie trotter and shook it. It, like the first one, was empty. So were all the bottles after it.

With a bellow of rage he scattered the empty bottles, sending them crashing to the floor. Squealer came in just then, ducking as a bottle was hurled at him.

"Oh great comrade Napoleon, I have seen several of our lower creatures helping that traitor, Mollie, into the barn."

"So?" Napoleon snarled. "How is that going to get us more whiskey?"

Squealer held up a piece of paper in his trotter that had been taped to the icebox. "I believe this local business will help us. We dispose of a traitor and get quite a profit all at once."

The boar snatched the paper from his second-in-command and read it over. A smile came over his face, "find me the telephone. We shall contact this business at once."

* * *

Mollie awoke to see a large, scowling man standing over her. He reached down and seized her roughly by her pretty mane, hauling her upright. She let out a cry of shock as another man came in, and they ushered her out the door.

The rain had stopped, although the sky was overcast, and a van was parked in the middle of the open space by the barn. Mollie looked at the writing on the van and her eyes flew open in understanding at where they were taking her, and where her mother had gone those long years ago.

She tried to run for it, despite her limp, but the men beat her sharply with the sticks they held. Muriel the goat watched this, then trotted to the nearby field where the other animals were pulling weeds.

Boxer, Clover and Benjamin had reluctantly left Mollie alone, knowing that they would be missed if they didn't show up for work when the rain had stopped.

"Quick! They're taking Mollie to the hospital! Come and say goodbye!"

Boxer was immediately suspicious, and ran to where the van was, the other animals right behind him. Mollie could see the stallion as he approached, right before the men slammed the doors to the van.

"Boxer! Don't let them take me away!"

The stallion heard several beasts calling goodbyes, still thinking Mollie was going to the hospital. Benjamin stamped his hoofs impatiently on the ground.

"You fools! Do you not see what is written on the back of that van?" Muriel began to spell out the letters, but Benjamin cut her off. "Peterson Horse Slaughter and Glue Boiler. They're taking Mollie to the knacker!"

A cry of fear burst from the creatures throats and they took of after the van, the horses who pulled it having been spurred into action. Jesse, a collie, barked out at the drivers to get them to stop. They ignored her, and she began calling out to Mollie.

"Mollie! Get out of there! They're taking you to your death! Kick your way out!"

A faint drumming of hooves came from inside the van, but nothing gave way. Mollie simply wasn't strong enough.

Clover began appealing with the horses that drove the van, "Comrades! Do not take your sister to her death!"

The horses ignored her and simply ran faster, spurred on by angry shouts from the drivers. The van suddenly rocked on its axles, Boxer threw his weight against the back doors a second time, trying to break them down.

But they held firm, save for several cracks along one side. The van clattered past the open five-bar gate and disappeared down the road, leaving the terror stricken animals in the dust.

* * *

The inside of the van was hot, and the enclosed space was making Mollie claustrophobic. The calls and shouts of her friends had died away, and the very near future donned on Mollie. Her throat would be cut, she would bleed to death, and her body would be boiled down into dog food.

She pressed against the side of the van to control her shaking, but it didn't help much. That's when something caught her eye. The long cracks in the doors caused by Boxer. An idea came to her, and she backed up as far as she could away from the door.

Bracing herself, she threw her whole weight against the doors. The hinges gave way, and the doors fell away, Mollie right behind them. She landed with a dull thud in the middle of the gravel road, and scrambled hastily to her feet.

The van drivers had failed to notice her departure, and the death car disappeared out of sight down the road.

Mollie deeply inhaled, enjoying the fresh air. She then began walking up the road in the direction the van had taken her from. She needed to get back to Animal Farm.

* * *

"Forward, comrades, keep going forward. We must all work harder. Napoleon is always right." Squealer wiped an imaginary tear from his eye with his trotter. "Those were her very last words, comrades, down to the letter. She died peacefully, despite every kind of treatment available. We shall all miss her deeply."

The porker stepped down from the raised platform and walked out the door to the barn. Boxer tensed from where he stood beside Clover, completely enraged by the lies that Squealer and Napoleon were circulating.

Mollie was dead, boiled to nothing by the knacker, and it was all his fault. He heard drunken singing coming from farmhouse, the pigs drinking to Mollie's memory with the whiskey that had been bought with her life.

Clover could tell that Boxer was hurting, and she quietly stopped Benjamin from following him when he disappeared out the door. The Harvest moon looked brilliant, surrounded by the stars, but it was all lost to Boxer.

He fought back bitter tears of anguish, not knowing what to do. The night breeze blew something across the ground, and Boxer stopped it with his hoof before it could blow away.

It was Mollie's ribbon, Napoleon must have threw it away into the wind instead of burning it in the rubbish fire. He stared at the ribbon for the longest time, when someone came up beside him.

"Boxer, could I have my ribbon back?"

The stallion picked up the ribbon between his teeth and looped it around the mare's mane before staring back at the ground.

Then it hit him.

Boxer stared at Mollie and blinked several times before realizing that she truly was there, alive and well. He pressed his nose into her shoulder as tears of joy dripped from his eyes.

"Mollie! You're alive! I can't believe it!"

Mollie smiled back at him, "all because of you, Boxer. Tell Clover and Benjamin I'm okay, alright?"

Boxer was confused, "what? You're not coming back to the barn?"

Mollie shook her head, "I can't. Napoleon will kill us all if he finds out that I'm still alive. I've found a good hiding place at the edge of the farm. I can work in the shadows to get you all away from here. Keep everyone going Boxer, I'll see you soon."

As she turned to leave, Boxer stopped her. "Mollie, wait! I've been practicing my letters. Do you want to see?"

Mollie smiled at him, "okay."

I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U

**A.N.: Eighteen pages long! This took me a little bit of time! Please review! Please! Tell me what you think. No flames. **


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